June 14, 2019

A skunk milling around at the base of our hill took me by surprise this morning on my way to the dock to catch sunrise. Ever since I almost stepped on one laying in the grass a couple of weeks ago, I’ve been on the lookout for snakes, and my eyes were focused just a foot or two ahead, not 30. It was only by chance that I happened to look up in time to see something black and white, and I stopped dead in my tracks.

The skunk didn’t, though. It continued coming straight up the hill—and me! I didn’t have to think twice about what to do: It wouldn’t bother me one bit to backtrack and go to the dock another way.

Just as I was about to, I saw that Pepé la P’eew had changed her direction, and that it was safe to continue my original path. At one point I was close enough to snap a photo or two of her, but I thought it better to err on the side of caution and just keep going.

Just the day before, one of the other workampers told me that a camper had reported a family of skunks nesting in between sites 58 and 59, just down the hill from us. All week, I’d seen a dad and his two young daughters tent-camping there in site 59 and, in fact, it was dad who reported the skunks.

I’d seen this family all week, and admired the dad from a distance. What an ambitious endeavor he’d taken on, taking these little kids camping by himself! A couple of times we heard the baby wailing, obviously upset about something, but he’d pick her up and all would be well in no time. From a distance, the older girl looked to be about 6.

Early one unusually cool morning earlier this week I was sitting next to the campfire when I saw them emerge from their tent, dad carrying the little one, and then all pile into his truck and head for the bathroom and shower house Later, I watched him cook meals on the grill while the girls played close by. On a couple of occasions I saw them all headed for the beach to go swimming.

When reporting the skunk sighting, he mentioned that every night he and his daughters watched the skunk family, and that the older girl especially got a kick out of it. I thought to myself that these girls are going to one day have some great memories of camping with their dad, and what a special gift that is.

June 17, 2019

It’s Monday, and we’re off work. My passion for catching sunrise has become an obsession, and I am down by the water every morning now unless it’s raining.

I’d finished all the preliminaries—taking the pups out and feeding them, making coffee, a few of my morning readings—by 5 a.m., so I headed out the door. Sunrise was slated to happen at 5:31. It was still dark.

I was focused on watching where I was walking when my attention turned to something moving about 10 feet away. It was the skunk!!

Fear suddenly overwhelmed me, and again, my first thought was to turn and run, but I was afraid that she’d get frightened and spray me. So I braced myself as best I could, hoped for the best, and kept walking ahead, trying my best to appear unassuming and harmless.

My heart raced and pounded as I passed her by, watching her as much as possible from the corner of my eye. I prayed she wouldn’t get frightened and spray me! When I had a sense that there was a safe distance between us, I was so relieved and felt like I’d really accomplished something.

I’m grateful I don’t have many fearful moments like that very often. It’s scary!But I’m grateful for the things I learned when I did go though times like that.

When I believe something is possible, I find that I can do more than I think I can. It’s refreshing when I meet others who believe this way, too. Just yesterday, I met such a person.

She and her husband had been camping here for a few days and were due to leave. She had come up to the gatehouse to say goodbye with gifts— a box of handcrafted paper corsages that were absolutely beautiful. She wanted those of us working to take one.

Their campsite was next to Tama’s, the workamper I was working with at the time, and the two of them had become fast friends. She was in her 60’s at least, and had been married for only the last four. She had been single and adventurous for most of her life.

Sunday mornings are slow, so the three of us yakked a while, first about where all of us had been—Kalispell and White Fish, Montana—and then about where they were headed next—Natchez Trace and then head west to Yosemite.

It was only when she turned away to leave that I saw that she was missing her right arm. How she pieced together the handmade corsages defied my understanding. Tama saw my surprise and said, “She’s lost her arm when she was 24. Car accident. She said her dad told her then that she could choose to let it kill her or she could choose to live.” Having just talked to her, I knew what her answer had been!

I think fear stops a lot of dreams from becoming reality, and whether you think you can or whether you can’t, you’re right. This makes me recall something I heard something recently that resonated:

If something turns out the way I wanted it to, I learned something. And if it doesn’t turn out the way I wanted it to, I learned something.

I’m grateful for all the opportunities to learn, just from living in the woods. It’s wild!